Ander - Part 2: Subchapter 36

Story by Contrast on SoFurry

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36

Taking that first backwards step was the hardest, knowing that certain death was waiting for her and her baby at the bottom if her grip failed. The wind kept blowing her cape out to the side like a sail, threatening to pluck them off the mountainside like a leaf, but thankfully the hood and its precious cargo was heavy enough not to go billowing out the same way.

Sarah's arms were already starting to ache, and she had barely even begun the descent. To keep her mind off this, she started to count the number of knots as they passed through her fingers. First one, then two, then three...

How many were there, anyway? She climbed up and down this thing so many times last year, but she never bothered to count them before. Twenty, maybe? That sounded -

Exactly the same as the stairs back home. The stairs you almost threw yourself off of.

  • completely wrong. Nope, definitely not twenty. It had to be less. Probably no more than eighteen, at most. Maybe only seventeen, or sixteen, even. Yes, that sounded much better. Much, much better.

"Four... five..." she muttered under her breath, carefully feeling for solid footholds before taking each step. "Six... seven..." Her voice sounded so strange to her own ears, so cracked and warped, so weak. Just like Grandmother on her deathbed.

"Don't be stupid, Sarah... Eight... It's just the wind making your voice sound funny, that's all... Nine... T- te... ten..."

There was blood in her mouth again, stinging her throat, making her want to cough. But coughing hurt so badly, she didn't want to risk it until she got down, so she fought the urge, focussing only on her counting, on the rope between her hands, on the wall of stone beneath her feet and the baby resting against her chest.

"Eleven... tw-"

Talking just made the scratch in her throat worse, turning her voice into a raspy croak.

Twelve... thirteen...

It couldn't be much farther, could it?

Fourteen... fifteen...

She probably would have been able to jump to the bottom by now, if she was in good health.

Sixteen... seventeen...

She risked a quick look over her shoulder, turning into the wind so that her hair wouldn't blow into her face too much, but all she could see was the rope swinging against broken stones, disappearing into the darkness below. She might have waited a while for another flash of lightning to show her the way, but her arms were screaming for release, and her fingers were so cold she could barely even feel the rope slide between -

Her stomach did a somersault as her whole body suddenly dropped straight down, the rope slithering between her hands like an angry snake, scraping her palms raw. Her fingers tightened on pure reflex, fuelled by adrenalin into a death grip. They hit the eighteenth knot, painfully jerking her body to a stop. She could feel Andrew's weight bounce in her hood, tugging on the clasp at the back of her neck, and she instinctively tried to keep him from falling out by lowering her head over him like a lid.

It worked, but just barely. Up close like this, his cries were even louder than the wind, drowning out everything else. By the gods, how much further did she still have to go? Would this night never end?

"Don't worry, Andrew. I've got you, I've got you..." she whispered, her lips brushing against his forehead with each syllable.

Moving quickly, before her arms could fail her again, she felt around for solid ground with her foot, but there was none to be found.

"Oh, gods..."

She climbed down to the nineteenth knot and repeated the process, her hope failing even faster than the muscles in her arms. If she were to fall, what would happen to Andrew? If she fell just right, she might be able to shield him from the impact with her body, but if she couldn't get back up again, they would both freeze out here in the middle of nowhere. Once the rain started, it would only be a matter of -

Her foot touched down on flat, solid earth. She could hardly believe it. Some gloomy part of her insisted that this was only an outcropping and that she wasn't even halfway done yet, but that special part of her that never lost hope shouted it into oblivion. She could feel dead leaves and tiny grains of sand blowing against her ankle. Somehow, she had made it. She was at the bottom.

Sarah turned her head and coughed into the darkness, hacking up what felt like a whole cup's worth of warm blood. The taste has been with her for so long now it didn't even bother her anymore.

She stood with her back turned to the wind for just a little while, slowly getting her breath back.

Lightning flashed somewhere behind her, throwing her shadow across the leaf-strewn ground, a jagged flicker of how she felt on the inside: broken and torn.

As the inevitable thunder rolled above the forest canopy, Sarah continued her journey, every step forced out of pure will until she finally reached the stream.

She tackled this obstacle in much the same way she tackled all those that came before: one step at a time. Climbing down the embankment wasn't so hard, and even though the water was as cold as freshly melted snow, it didn't reach up past her shins. Her feet have been completely numb for the past half-hour anyway. Climbing back up on the other side was more of a challenge. She had to walk downstream for quite a while before coming across a small boulder, worn smooth by the river over the years. Even with the added height gained from this natural step, her progress was in doubt, but she eventually clambered up onto the other side, exhausted.

Now that all the climbing was over (at least for the foreseeable future), Sarah took another moment to catch her breath. All this resting was a bad sign, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She's never felt so... drained...

Everything she did made her feel tired. Even the act of resting almost felt like a chore, and that didn't even make sense. She could feel her energy slowly drifting away, even though she wasn't moving at all.

"Come on, Sarah. You've come this far. Can't give up now..."

Talking to yourself like that is a bad sign, too, you know.

"Shut up, you."

She looked down at Andrew, lying so still in her hood. Poor little thing must have cried himself out. The backwards cloak was good for freeing up her hands for climbing, but on flat ground like this it would just slow her down. She gently lifted Andrew up and twisted her cloak the right way around again. Wouldn't want to trip over the cape now that they were so close.

Shivering in the dark, she hugged him close, giving him what little heat she had to give.

She didn't know where Kadai's village was, but she knew that the river flowed from North to South before bending East, and he always came in from the West, so it must be safe to assume it must lie somewhere in that direction, right?

She didn't have much choice, so she kept the sound of the river to her back and did the only thing she could: walk.

She walked and walked, trying her best to go in a straight line, the wind and the cold like leeches, each step sapping her of energy. She would look up and squint through the black gaps between the trees looming all around them, hoping to see the flicker of campfires, but there was nothing. Nothing but more shadow.

Thunder and lightning in the sky, turning the forest canopy into a horror show of shifting black fingers and veins of white light, fused together in an embrace across a thousand miles, but this time was different. This time there was something else. She could hear it all around them, subtle, but terrifying.

Tapping.

Ahead, to the side, from behind, all over, against the leaves overhead, on the tree trunks, on the ground, loudest against her hood, the pace quickening, growing louder, more intense, the tapping.

She could feel them strike her muzzle one after another, bitter cold, like being kissed by an icicle.

The rain.

Sarah covered Andrew as best she could, making sure that his towel was wrapped around his body nice and tight. He squirmed in her grasp, not liking the fat drops splashing against his face one bit. His cries were -

No, wait... those sounds...

At first, Sarah thought it must have been a trick of the wind and the newly added whisper of the rain, but there was no mistaking it now. She could hear Andrew clearly in her arms, fussing and mewling, but not crying. Those sounds were coming from somewhere up ahead, deeper in the woods. They were the sounds of a creature in pain; cries of pure agony.

Even more terrifying, they sounded familiar...

Fighting through the cold, fighting through the pain, fighting through the exhaustion, Sarah followed those cries, deep into the night.


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